The Doctor's thoughts were confused. Something was making noise—an incredibly piercing, biting noise—was that the TARDIS?—and he couldn't quite remember what he had just been doing. He blinked a few times, clearing up his bleary eyesight, and was immediately hit with a wave of exhaustion.
Wait. Was he in bed?
The Doctor rarely slept, and when he did, he usually dropped off wherever he happened to find himself. He hadn't consciously gone to bed in ages.
And what the heck was that noise?
A red glow in the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was an alarm clock. A wailing alarm clock.
He scowled, the events of the previous day slowly returning to him. He'd just saved the universe, again, free of charge. It had taken an awful lot of running, too (as usual), so forgive him if he was knackered and felt he deserved an extra few hours to rest.
He reached for his sonic screwdriver and flipped it on. The clock exploded.
He went back to sleep.
